


in case you don't live forever

by iwasfollowingyou



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen: Part 2, First Kiss, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pining, and absolutely no one is surprised, sam and josh are idiots again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:19:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasfollowingyou/pseuds/iwasfollowingyou
Summary: In case you don't live forever, let me tell you nowI love you more than you'll ever wrap your head aroundIn case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truthI'm everything that I am because of you





	in case you don't live forever

Sam had always considered the longest day of his life to be the time when he was twelve years old, and his parents had decided to take a road trip to Seattle. He had been squished into the backseat of the family car with barely enough room to comfortably move around in, then locked in for almost an entire day of driving north with only a few ten-minute breaks for food or to use the restroom. The trip itself had been pleasant enough, but Sam had had absolutely no desire to get back into the car when it was over, and his mother had to bribe him with a promise of a new skateboard in order to get home.

Being him, of course, he had promptly fallen off of his brand-new skateboard and sprained his wrist, and it had been tucked away in a corner of the garage to collect dust. And Sam had never again agreed to ever go on that long of a road trip. From that time on, he much preferred planes to cars.

Other days had come close to the Seattle trip, though none had quite surpassed it. There was the day he expected to get his Princeton decision letter, and he spent ten straight hours sitting in the armchair by the window and staring at the mailbox. There was election day, when it had been too close to call right up to the final minute, and Josh and Sam had stayed up for almost twenty-four hours, from long before the first polls had opened until long after the results were finally called, and the staff had launched into a celebration that kept them awake for several more hours.

No day, however, had been quite so agonizingly long as the fourteen hours Josh spent in surgery.

There had been a thousand different things to do after he returned to the White House with CJ and Toby. There had been people to call, departments to talk to, press to thoroughly ignore until CJ gave him the okay. Sam had been operating on autopilot, going through the motions while his mind kept returning to what was happening at the hospital.

Josh sitting up against the wall, blood staining his shirt. Toby yelling for a doctor. Sam not having a chance to even touch Josh before they whisked him away into the ambulance. The ride to the hospital, surrounded by ear-splitting sirens and flashing lights, never having a moment of silence to just process what had happened.

_“I need to get to New Hampshire!”_

_“You went to New Hampshire. We both did. You came and got me.”_

Sam dropped a binder down on his desk harder than he meant to, and the dull thud shocked him out of his thoughts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, imagining he could feel his lungs filling all the way up before letting it out.

He hadn’t yet allowed himself to cry. He had come close several times — the first when he saw Josh, his face as white as a sheet and his hands painted red. The second when they took Josh away from him, covering his face with an oxygen mask and pulling the stretcher along with them through the doors where Sam couldn’t follow. The third had been when he got back to his office, when he had slammed the door shut and leaned against it and tried to remember how to breathe for a few moments. But the tears hadn’t yet fallen. He knew that as soon as he let them, he wouldn’t be able to stop them. He couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t help Josh by wasting his time bawling like a little kid.

There was a light knock on his door, and he looked up. Toby was standing in the doorway. His sleeves were rolled up to elbows, and his tie was loosened around his neck. He had one pen tucked behind his ear, and another in his hand. In his other hand was a notepad. Sam could see it was covered with writing — possible language for their upcoming statements, he guessed.

“Hi,” Sam greeted him weakly.

“Hi.” Toby stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Sam straightened up in his chair as Toby walked over to his desk. “There’s—” He switched his pen into the other hand and scratched the top of his head anxiously. “I think there’s something we need to share with the press.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“I wrote a memo. A few weeks after the inauguration. I wrote a memo about how he wanted to enter and exit buildings in the open air, instead of using a cover. I wrote it, and he signed it. Because of me. Because I told him to.”

“Toby—”

“Sam, we have to get that memo to the press.”

“Why?”

“They’re going to ask questions.”

Sam shook his head. “Secret Service doesn’t comment on procedure.”

“Doesn’t stop them from asking.”

“Why the hell does the press need a memo you wrote a year and a half ago?”

“Why was the President exiting in open air?”

Sam ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Don’t make this about you, Toby.”

“I’m not making it about me.”

“You are.”

“Sam—”

“Toby, seriously.” He kept his voice level, mindful not to sound too aggressive. 

After working with Toby for so long, he had learned how to pick up on the tiny intricacies and hidden meanings in Toby’s words. He _had_ to learn, because Toby Ziegler didn’t often explain exactly what he meant by everything he said or did. Sam knew Toby was searching for someone to blame. Sam knew Toby, in some twisted way, wanted to blame _himself_ , because if he could take the fall for it, it meant that no one else would be at fault.

Toby was his superior, and Sam was always respectful towards his superiors. However, he also knew when his superiors needed to get their heads knocked on right.

“It’s not worth it. Don’t release the memo.”

“They’re going to ask questions,” Toby repeated.

“Let them ask,” he said firmly. “Toby, listen to yourself. No one is to blame for this except the shooters, alright? You are not the reason that the President prefers to enter and exit buildings in the open air. You are not the reason that he was in the open air tonight, and you are not the reason that he was shot.”

Toby looked like he wanted to argue, but he simply nodded. “Fine.” Sam let out a sigh of relief. “I have some more language to look over, too, whenever you have a minute.”

“Good. Alright, yeah.” Sam ran a hand through his hair again, then did his best to flatten it down. He looked over the notes on his desk. “CJ asked me to do the morning shows.”

Toby checked his watch. “What time?”

Sam glanced down at his own. “About an hour.”

“You look like hell.”

“I know. I have a backup suit in Josh’s office.” He paused. Josh’s name felt unfamiliar on his tongue, as if it had a different weight than it had before. He swallowed dryly and took another deep breath. “I’m just — I should go get ready.”

He stood and walked around the other side of his desk. As he walked past Toby, he reached a hand out and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. Sam stopped and turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Toby asked, voice much gentler than usual.

Sam nodded. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“If you don’t feel up to doing the shows…”

“I do. I mean, I — I need to. I need to keep busy. I have to do _something_. Otherwise I’m just gonna — I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about it.”

He looked down at his shoes and took a deep breath.

_You came and got me._

“Sam,” Toby said quietly. “Are you going to be okay? I don’t want you going on air if you’re not going to be able to handle it. We can find someone else to take your place. I know it’s not easy, with Josh still—”

“I’ll be fine,” he cut him off before Toby could inch too close to the truth. He gathered his strength and looked up. “I’ll be fine.” Toby nodded, though he still looked unsure. He squeezed Sam’s shoulder before letting him go.

Sam walked slowly through the hallways. The West Wing was still in chaos, people running everywhere and phones ringing and everyone raising their voices to be heard over the noise, which only served to make everything louder. Someone ran into Sam’s shoulder and quickly apologized as they hurried along, but he barely even registered it.

Josh’s office was blissfully quiet, a tiny oasis separated from the disarray outside. Sam shut the door behind him, then stood in the middle of the room. He looked down at Josh’s desk. It was covered in papers, looking as if a tornado had torn through the room, just like always. ( _“It’s organized chaos,”_ Josh told him when Sam mentioned how messy everything was. _“I know where everything belongs.”_ ). There was a nearly-empty mug of coffee on the desk, a crumpled-up napkin next to it, along with a torn sugar packet. Sam walked around the desk, brushing his fingers over Josh’s stacks of files and memos and notes.

The edge of the computer monitor was covered with sticky notes, half in Josh’s messy handwriting and half in Donna’s much neater cursive. Those in Donna’s handwriting were mostly notes about meeting times, plus one with a pizza order for the office. Josh’s notes to himself were mostly as Sam expected — _Call Mom_ ; _buy eggs_. A snort escaped Sam as he read _Call Pickard and tell him he’s an asshole_.

Sam looked around the room again. Everything in it was familiar — he had spent enough time in Josh’s office that he could probably describe it from memory. But standing there alone felt different.

The whole layout felt like a day interrupted, as if Josh had just ducked out to grab more coffee or have a meeting, and he would return in just a few minutes and beg Sam to buy him a beer after work.

A tiny, scathing voice in the back of Sam’s mind whispered, _He may never come back._

Sam shook his head vigorously. Josh was going to come back. Josh was going to be fine. He was under the care of some of the best doctors in the world. They knew what they were doing. They would fix Josh right up, and he would be good as new. They just had to wait.

Waiting was agony.

_It may be too late._

“Shut up,” Sam muttered to the voice. “Shut up.”

_It’s too late. He’s never going to know._

In order to attempt to shove the thoughts out of his head, Sam forced himself to stop looking around Josh’s office and grabbed his backup suit from the closet. Josh was nice enough to let Sam keep a few things in his office that Sam didn’t have room for in his. It wasn’t all that often that Sam needed a second suit while at work, but he had always preferred being prepared to getting caught in a situation where he needed one and didn’t have it.

He closed Josh’s office door carefully as he left, ignoring the urge to look over his shoulder as he walked away.

——————————————

“Sam!” He whipped around to face CJ as she hurried toward him.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

She stopped next to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Good job on the morning shows.”

“Thanks.” He nodded, ducking his head.

“Sam?”

He looked back up at her. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for doing them.”

“Sure. It was no problem.” He forced a smile.

“I told Leo I didn’t feel right doing them while Josh was still in surgery.”

Sam swallowed dryly, his throat stinging, and nodded. He didn’t feel right doing them either, but he had needed the distraction. It was easier to talk to news anchors about the administration’s planned next steps than it was to think about Josh. Of course, they had brought him up, and Sam had managed to force a smile and hold the tears back as he told them that Josh was still in surgery, but they were hopeful he was going to make a full recovery.

“Do you know what the real reason was?” CJ asked. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Sam, I couldn’t _remember_ what happened. I remember walking out of the building. Someone shoved me to the ground, and my necklace came off.” She gave him a pointed look. He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued before he could. “I was trying to do briefings with secondhand accounts, because I couldn’t remember what happened. But then I saw you talking about it.”

Sam shook his head. “CJ—”

“I think you have my necklace.”

He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, holding it out towards CJ. She carefully took it from him, clenching her fist around it. They stared at each other for a second.

“You saved my life, Sam.”

“Don’t—”

“You did.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged. “I just — I did what anyone else would do.”

CJ pulled him into a hug, and he returned it gratefully, closing his eyes. A twinge of guilt pulled at his chest. Maybe he had saved CJ. But no one near them had been hit. Even if he hadn’t pushed her down, she could have been fine. They were both fine; they both would have been fine.

But not Josh. Josh had been hit, and Sam hadn’t been there. He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. CJ stepped back, and he quickly cleared his throat and rubbed his sleeve over his face.

“Were you scared?” CJ asked him quietly. He met her eyes, searching her expression for a second, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he answered honestly. He felt a lump come to his throat and looked away, taking a couple of deep breaths.

“Me too.”

“CJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I was terrified.”

CJ pulled him back into her and wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hid his face against her shoulder. Warm tears were falling quickly onto his face; he couldn’t have held them back even if he had tried.

CJ gently pulled him into his office and shut the door, then stood still and let Sam cry against her. He choked out an ugly, wet sob, and she patted his back reassuringly. Sam lifted his head and wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket.

“I got — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — your shirt—”

“It’s okay,” she told him quickly. “I can put something on over it.”

He nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but it got stuck halfway, and another sob escaped his throat instead. He sat down in the armchair next to the door and dropped his head into his hands. The tears were stinging on his cheeks, and he rubbed his face roughly, but it only made it worse. CJ stepped over to his desk and returned with a handful of tissues. He accepted them without looking up and wiped at his eyes, then blew his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

“It’s okay.” She crouched in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles with her thumb. “Hey, you held it together for longer than most of us did. I was crying like a baby after my first briefing. Had to recover pretty quickly. I’m impressed you made it as long as you did.”

He smiled slightly at that, finally lifting his head to look at her. “It’s just — I don’t think I’ve stopped for long enough. Now that it’s — we’re slowing down a bit, and I just… it all hit. I was terrified, CJ. I thought — for a second, I thought I was going to die. Then — then I was worried the President was going to die, and now…”

“Josh,” CJ finished quietly. Sam nodded and wiped away fresh tears with the crumpled tissue. “I know, Sam. I’ve been terrified too. But he’s almost there. They’re taking him off bypass now. Means he’s almost done.”

“I know. I need — I was going to go see him. Do you think… will they let me?”

“You work for the President. I don’t think they can tell you no.”

He let out a strained laugh. “I guess.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He nodded slowly. “I need — I just I need to see him.”

“You will.”

“I don’t think…” He trailed off. “I don’t know if I can believe he’s okay until I see him.”

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “I know. You’ve done good, Sam. Holding it together like this… it’s not easy. You did good.”

“CJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I love him,” Sam whispered.

She smiled sadly. “I know.”

“No, I mean…” He swallowed hard and took a breath. “I mean I _love_ him, Ceej.”

He met her eyes. They had widened slightly, and her lips were slightly parted.

“I mean I’m in love with him.”

“Sam…”

“I know. I know.” He shrugged her hand off of his shoulder and stood up. CJ straightened up and watched as Sam walked over to his desk and threw the tissues into the trash can. He stopped in front of the window and stared out it. The sun had risen while he had been doing the morning shows. The grass outside was free of dew now, and the white of the walls was almost blinding. Sam blinked until it didn’t hurt so badly to look outside.

He hated that it was turning into such a beautiful day. It felt wrong. The sun didn’t deserve to shine until Josh was okay.

“Sam?” CJ said again.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t manage to turn around, too scared of what he would see in CJ’s expression if he did.

“I’m in love with him,” he repeated.

The confession had slipped from his lips more easily than he had ever thought it could. He never would have thought that it would be that simple, but the way he had said it had sounded as if he was stating just another fact of life. But the implication behind the words was a thousand times more terrifying than saying them could be.

He was in love with Josh.

He gathered the strength to turn back to CJ. She was still staring at him, mouth half-open, but her eyes seemed less shocked now. Sam shrugged half-heartedly.

“I guess I might as well admit it before it’s too late.”

“Sam,” CJ said _again_ , and Sam wished she would say anything besides his name.

“I know it could ruin my career.”

“Sam—”

“It probably will. But I can’t — shit, CJ.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What if I had waited too long? I thought — I thought I had years to figure it out. I thought I could wait until after we were out of the White House, when it would just mess up my life without bringing the President down with me. But I — after last night—”

“Sam.”

“It could have been too late. He could have died last night, and it would have been too late.”

“Sam.” CJ moved forward and pulled him into a hug again. Sam hadn’t even realized he had started crying again until CJ backed away and there was another wet mark on her shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, voice small and broken. “I can’t — I can’t lose him.”

“You’re not going to.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.” She tightened her arms around him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We’re going to work this out, Sam. I promise. Whether it’s just you, or if he… we’re going to work this out. It’s okay.”

Sam nodded as they pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t — I didn’t want to make your job any harder than it has to be—”

CJ laughed softly. “Sam, never once has this job been _easy_. I’m used to it now. You learn to take it in stride.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.” She shook her head. “Now, we should probably get to the hospital, right? We don’t want Leo and the President getting in there first and talking his poor ear off the second he wakes up.”

Josh was about to wake up.

Sam felt a smile make its way onto his lips, and he wiped the tears off of his cheeks. Josh was going to wake up, and Josh was going to be fine. They were all going to be just fine.

——————————————

Josh’s hospital room was quiet. There had been a couple of nurses talking outside, and Secret Service agents in the hallway providing updates into their earpieces every few minutes, but inside the room, the only noise that could be heard was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the hiss of Josh’s breathing machine.

Sam almost started crying again as soon as he stepped through the door. Josh was asleep, propped up in bed with just a pillow and a thin, uncomfortable looking sheet on top of him. His light blue hospital gown hid the bandages that Sam knew were covering his chest, and he was grateful for the fact that he didn’t have to look at them. It was bad enough to just see Josh in a hospital bed. Sam wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing the place where Josh had been cut open.

If he ignored the collection of machines around Josh’s bed, Sam could imagine he was just taking a nap, like he sometimes did in the armchair in Sam’s office during particularly long days. His eyelids were fluttering slightly. Sam wondered if he was dreaming.

“I’ll let you have some time,” CJ whispered to Sam, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a smile before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her. Then it was just Sam and Josh alone.

Sam pulled his jacket off and draped it over the chair in the corner of the room. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he stepped hesitantly over to Josh’s bedside.

“Hey,” Sam murmured, though he knew Josh couldn’t hear him. His eyes scanned over Josh’s body, most of it hidden under the sheet. He traced the curve of Josh’s shoulder down to his fingertips, taking in the IV in his hand and the white hospital bracelet around his wrist. Sam slowly reached out and brushed Josh’s hair back, letting his fingers stay in his curls for a moment longer than he probably should have.

Against likely better judgment, Sam leaned over and gently pressed his lips against Josh’s forehead, just a brief touch before retreating. Josh’s skin was warm. Sam thought he might cry again, but he managed to fight it back.

He pulled the chair a few feet closer to Josh’s bed and sat down. As soon as he left his feet, he was overcome with a wave of exhaustion, and he yawned widely. The events of the past fourteen hours were finally catching up with him, and though he tried to fight it, he found himself drifting off.

The room was dark when he was pulled out of his sleep by a voice. He blinked rapidly as he returned to consciousness. A nurse was standing on the other side of Josh’s bed, talking quietly to him as she replaced his IV bag and checked his bandages. Sam shifted in his chair, and she looked up at him and smiled.

“Your friend’s awake,” she told Josh.

Josh looked over to Sam, and Sam almost started crying. Josh grinned, and Sam could tell that he was definitely in pain, but Josh seemed to be ignoring any discomfort he was feeling.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Josh said softly. Sam stood up quickly and took the last step to stand right next to the bed. “You were asleep for longer than I was.”

“You were asleep when I got here. That’s why I fell asleep,” Sam told him. He started to lift his hand to run through Josh’s hair again but quickly dropped it back to his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot.”

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. The nurse smiled at them, then assured Sam, “He’s going to be just fine. We’ve got him hopped up on painkillers right now, so he isn’t feeling everything quite yet.”

“Do you feel high?” Sam asked him.

“How dare you imply that I have ever done drugs in my entire life. I have no idea what being high feels like.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re just fine.”

The nurse finished up and left, but not before she instructed Sam to not keep Josh up for too long. He swore he wouldn’t. As soon as she was out the door, he fixed all of his attention on Josh.

He looked tired (even more than usual), but all things considered, not too terrible. He had a soft smile on his face when he looked at Sam, and Sam didn’t know if the tears pricking at his eyes were happy or sad.

“I was worried we were going to lose you,” Sam told him softly.

“I’m immortal, Seaborn. You’re _never_ getting rid of me.”

 _God willing_ , Sam thought, but what he said was, “That’s a damn shame. And here I was thinking maybe someday I would finally be free.”

Josh laughed, then grimaced. “Okay, laughing is bad.”

Sam pulled the chair closer to the bed so that he could sit down and talk to Josh at the same time.

“You think scars are cool?” Josh asked, looking down at his chest.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I mean, depends on the scar. I have a few that would definitely not be considered cool.”

“I think a scar from a bullet wound is pretty cool.”

“Oh, all of the ladies are into bullet wounds,” Sam joked quietly, doing his best to hide the pain the statement caused him.

“I hadn’t thought of using it to get pity dates.” Josh tilted his head thoughtfully. “But it just might work. You’re a genius, Sammy.”

“I do my best.” He forced a smile. “Have you seen everyone else?”

Josh nodded. “Leo and the President came in and saw me as soon as I woke up. CJ and Donna both came in while you were sleeping. I thought Donna was gonna wake you up for sure, with how much she was crying.”

“She was worried. We all were.”

“I know. I’m sorry for putting you guys through that.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, Josh. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Our approval rating is going to go through the roof.”

“You think?”

“Oh, for sure. Pity points, but it’ll look good for us. Everyone loves a President that just survived an assassination attempt. It won’t last long, but should be a month or two where most of the public really likes us.”

“If I had known that it would boost our approval rating, I would’ve asked you to get shot a lot earlier.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I do know that.” Sam grinned.

“You’re so lucky I put up with your shit.”

_I really am._

They continued talking quietly for a while — Josh wanted to know about every single thing that had happened while he was in surgery, and Sam did his best to recount it in excruciating detail while leaving out the parts about him almost crying in Josh’s office and breaking down to CJ. Then Josh started to yawn, and Sam told him firmly that he should get some more rest. Josh protested a bit more before giving in, but not without a few more insults before he finally shut up and closed his eyes.

He was asleep within a few minutes, and Sam took the chance to take a few deep breaths and recollect his thoughts. It still hadn’t fully sunken in that Josh was okay, that he had survived and despite the scar he was going to be just fine.

The door opened, a sliver of light from the hallway traveling across the room before disappearing again. Leo nodded in greeting and walked towards Josh’s bed.

“How’s he doing?” he asked quietly.

“He’s okay,” Sam told him, glancing back at Josh. “Probably won’t be quite so perky after the painkillers wear off, but he seems alright.”

Leo nodded. He stepped closer to Josh and gently covered Josh’s hand with his own. Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment, Sam got to his feet and quietly said goodbye, leaving Leo alone with Josh.

The hospital was much quieter than it had been earlier. There were still doctors and nurses walking down the hallways, and each exit was guarded by Secret Service agents, but overall, it was calm. Sam wandered around aimlessly for a while. He found a vending machine near the elevators and bought himself a bag of pretzels. He snacked on them as he kept walking. There were a few people in the waiting room, and Sam stopped by the front desk and watched the TV in the corner of the room.

They were still covering the shooting. The volume was off, but he could kind of keep up with what they were saying thanks to the subtitles, though they were clearly delayed several seconds. The coverage was mostly just reporters talking, but they cut in with some aerial views of Rosslyn. Sam’s stomach clenched as he watched the images flash on the screen. He tossed the half-empty bag of pretzels into a trash can, no longer hungry.

He sat down in one of the chairs and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. Everything had been sinking in over the past few hours, but he still hadn’t had an opportunity to process it all. The emotions didn’t hit him quite as hard as they had before, more like a gentle stream than a crashing wave.

He had almost lost Josh. Now that he knew Josh was okay, he finally let his mind wander.

Josh could have died. It could have been over, just like that, with a sharp gunshot and a bullet in his chest. Sam almost lost him. The very idea that things could have gone so horribly wrong made Sam want to throw up.

He had almost waited too long. Josh could have been gone forever, and he never would have known how Sam felt about him. It seemed stupid, childish even. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t have mattered that Sam was in love with Josh. It would have been just another _what if_ among a million others. No one would have cared, except for Sam.

But it still felt as if he had almost made a mistake. Never before had he _wanted_ to tell Josh how he felt about him. It had been Sam’s dirty little secret, one he had been hiding for more than a decade. He had been in love with Josh since the year they had met. Love at first sight was too much of a cliché — Sam never would have called it that. But there had been something there the moment he had met Josh’s bright eyes and shook his hand for the first time. It felt as though Sam had been waiting to meet him his entire life, and when their paths had finally collided, all that he could think was _Oh, there you are._

Josh Lyman was something else. Sam considered himself lucky to even know him, much less be one of his closest — if not his closest — friends. Simply knowing Josh Lyman was a blessing in and of itself.

Sam hadn’t quite decided whether falling in love with him was a blessing or a curse.

He had been waiting to tell Josh until there was a better time. Working in the White House was not the best environment for being in love with your same-sex best friend. If anyone ever found out that Sam wasn’t straight, much less that he was in love with Josh, it could have ruined his career. People like Sam weren’t _allowed_ to be anything but straight. But maybe one day, he thought, he hoped, maybe one day there would have been a chance.

The possibility had crossed his mind more than was probably acceptable. He had dreamed about it — years after leaving the White House, when they were working jobs that weren’t quite so public, when it would no longer matter that Sam was in love with him. When Sam could finally tell him, “I’m in love with you,” and maybe it wouldn’t completely ruin their lives.

Being in love with Josh wasn’t quite a blessing, not yet, but Sam could dream that one day it would be one.

——————————————

“Come on,” Sam said, getting to his feet. Josh looked up at him inquisitively.

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeated. “We’re going out.”

Josh gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not supposed to go out.”

“Not _out_ out, dumbass. Just, you know, out. Fresh air is good for you.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s not that bad. And you own a coat.”

Josh sighed in defeat and got to his feet. He disappeared into his bedroom and returned a moment later with a sweatshirt on. He and Sam pulled on their shoes and coats, and Sam held the door open for Josh to walk out. Josh muttered something under his breath and stuck his tongue out at Sam, but Sam just smiled innocently.

They walked around Georgetown for a while. Sam made sure to keep a close eye on Josh — he needed to get outside, but Sam didn’t want him to push it too far and end up needing to spend the entire next day in bed. Josh seemed to be doing okay, though. His recovery had been exponential over the past few weeks.

“When do you get to come back to work?” Sam asked.

Josh shrugged. “Not for a while still. Doctors said twelve weeks at the least.”

He had been going a bit stir crazy being cooped up at home. The hospital stay had been bad enough, but at least when he was there, he was surrounded by people almost all the time. Now that he had been cleared to go home, he spent most of his time alone, reading or watching TV. Sam tried to visit as much as he could, but with midterms coming up, he didn’t have much free time.

They found themselves walking along the river, and when they came up on one of the bridges, Josh tugged at Sam’s sleeve and guided him to the middle of it. They leaned against the railing and watched the water flow beneath them, dark and cold.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Josh said quietly. Sam glanced at him. He was staring out at the horizon, expression blank. “I keep trying to distract myself. I’ve watched like twelve movies and read four books already, but I keep… I keep coming back to it. I’ve had nightmares almost every single night.”

Sam’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Josh shook his head. “It’s not like there’s anything anyone can do it about it. I just want to know how long it’s gonna last, you know? How long until my life gets back to normal?”

“Maybe it’s just because you don’t have anything else to do. Getting back to work might help.”

“Maybe.” Josh sighed. “But that’s weeks away still. I dunno what I’m supposed to do until then.”

“You could ask Leo to let you work from home a bit,” Sam suggested. “I can bring you memos and stuff to work through.”

“You’d do that?” Josh turned his head towards Sam.

“Of course. I’m coming over anyway, right? Might as well bring you some exciting political documents.”

Josh smiled slightly. “What would I do without you, Sammy?”

“Crash and burn.”

Josh nodded, expression gravely serious. He broke eye contact and looked back out over the river. “Have you — have you thought about it?”

“Rosslyn?”

“Yeah.”

“Every day,” he admitted. Sam turned towards the water again as well, leaning over the raining and clasping his hands together. “It’s different. Everyone is… I don’t know what the word is. Subdued? Nervous? I don’t know. Charlie is especially shaken up.”

“Poor kid.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve thought about it. I keep thinking of how it could have been any of us. Hell, even the President got hit, and he’s the first one they protect. It could have been any of us. That’s terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Josh said softly.

Sam took a deep breath. _Now or never,_ he told himself.

“But it’s not — I don’t know if any of it would have been as terrifying as it being you.”

“What?” Josh looked over at Sam. Sam kept his eyes forward.

“I mean… I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life than when I saw you — when you… I don’t know if I would have been as scared if it was anyone else. And it makes me feel guilty, but I can’t — I can’t help it. Almost losing you…” He looked down. “It was the worst day of my life.”

“Sam,” Josh murmured. He reached out towards Sam, but Sam shook his hand off.

“I realized something that night,” Sam continued quietly. “Well, if I’m being honest, I didn’t _realize_ it then. I had known it for a really long time. But it wasn’t until that night that I realized that I — that it wasn’t something that I could stand — stand losing you without you hearing.”

“Sam?” Josh asked hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing.

Sam swallowed dryly. “I realized — I realized that there were a thousand reasons that I wouldn’t have been able to handle losing you. I mean, we _need_ you, for one. The staff would fall apart without you. But there’s just one thing that I wished I could have told you before I had to even _consider_ the fact that you — that you could die. The one thing that I knew would’ve been the last thing I told you, if I had the chance.” He took a deep breath. “It was that night that I realized that you’re not going to live forever. And because you won’t live forever, I might as well tell you now, right?”

“Sam, what—”

“I’m in love with you.” He looked up to meet Josh’s eyes. Josh’s lips parted, and he started to say something, but Sam quickly continued, “I love you, and I don’t need — you don’t have to love me back. It’s okay. I don’t — I don’t care, but I just needed you to know, because I don’t want to miss the chance to tell you and then regret it for the rest of my life because I could have told you and didn’t because I was a coward.”

“Sam,” Josh whispered.

“I almost waited too long. I could have lost you without ever telling you how much you mean to me.”

“Sam,” he repeated.

“I didn’t want to make the mistake—”

“Sam, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to push you off this bridge.” Sam’s mouth snapped shut, and he nodded. Josh stepped closer to him, and Sam shivered, from the wind or from Josh he wasn’t quite sure. “You’re in love with me.”

Sam nodded slowly.

Josh’s face broke into a grin. “Why the hell did it take me being _shot_ for you to tell me, you asshole?”

“I didn’t—”

Josh grabbed his arms and pulled him in. Sam let out a soft gasp as his chest collided with Josh’s. He immediately began mumbling an apology, worried he hurt him, but he was cut off by Josh leaning in and pressing his lips firmly against Sam’s. Josh’s arms slid around his waist, and Sam wrapped his around Josh, clasping his hands together and resting them against the back of Josh’s neck.

He whined softly when Josh pulled away. When he opened his eyes, Josh was smiling. He pressed another soft kiss to Sam’s lips.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Josh whispered, his breath warm against Sam’s face. “You really are. Fucking idiot.”

“Can you stop insulting me?” Sam asked quietly, and Josh laughed. Sam’s mind was racing, struggling to catch up with everything that just happened.

Josh had kissed him. He hadn’t pushed him away, or cut him off, or turned and walked away in disgust. He had kissed him.

“I’m in love with you too, dumbass,” Josh said softly.

Sam’s face broke into a grin. “You’re — really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me earlier?”

“I thought you were straight.”

Sam snorted. “You’re pretty stupid yourself, then.”

“Felt rude to assume.”

“So, are you insulted that I guessed you liked men eight years ago?”

Josh rolled his eyes as he stepped back, and Sam immediately felt much colder. “I’m more insulted that you figured it out and still didn’t ask me out.”

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t want to make things weird. I liked — I liked what we had. I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“But me almost dying made you take action?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you didn’t want me to die without knowing.”

Sam nodded slowly. He swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat and pulled Josh back in, kissing him softly, because if he didn’t do that, he was pretty sure he was going to start crying. He cupped Josh’s jaw, and Josh brought his hands up to cover Sam’s.

“We should probably head back,” Josh murmured when they pulled away. Sam hummed in agreement, but neither of them made any move. Josh rested his forehead against Sam’s.

“We probably should.”

“Probably.”

Instead, Josh kissed him again. Sam smiled against his lips. After a moment, Josh stepped back, but he kept his hands interlocked with Sam’s.

“I should have almost died a long time ago.”

“Josh.” Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Yeah?” Josh grinned.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But you love me.”

Sam shook his head, but he was still smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

Josh leaned in and kissed him again, and it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

**Author's Note:**

> this is somewhat similar to my other itsotg fic, but i heard ben platt's album and i couldn't help myself because the entire thing is so samjosh it hurts (there may be a fic coming later based on a couple of the other songs from it, so keep an eye out for that). leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed x


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